Independence Imagination Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

My younger sister, Chloe, and I were transmigrated together into a beastworld continent. Beastmen are classified into four distinct ranks: S, A, B, and C. The tribe chieftain, Gideon, gathered all the single beastmen in the tribe for us to choose from. Chloe chose Garrett, the only A-rank werewolf in the entire tribe. She gave birth to five consecutive litters, yet all her children turned out to be mere B-rank beastmen. Furious, Garrett dissolved their mating bond. The other males refused to take her in either, entirely because the offspring she produced were of a mediocre grade. Meanwhile, I chose a B-rank snake shifter and gave birth to ten children in a single litter—all of whom were A-rank. The entire tribe revered me as a divine lady, and the snake shifter successfully inherited Gideon's position. Consumed by sheer jealousy, Chloe poisoned my ten children to death and pushed me off a cliff, leaving me to plunge to my death. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the exact day of selecting our mates. Without a single moment of hesitation, Chloe chose the snake shifter. I knew right then that she had been reincarnated too. But this time, the children she gave birth to would not even qualify as C-rank.

The day I got fired, I received a trial pass from an AI cosmetic clinic. It required neither surgery nor recovery time, yet it could deliver a flawless celebrity face overnight. But there was a catch. The face only lasted seven days after the complimentary trial. To keep it, I signed a contract to become the actress' body double, trading my time, identity, and freedom for another week of beauty. As the years passed, I kept paying the price to maintain a face that wasn't mine until one day, I realized I no longer wanted to live in someone else's shadow.

An overpass in Winfeld that's still under construction ends up collapsing, leading to the deaths of many. Family members of the victims are up in arms, demanding that the person in charge pay the price for the incident. As the quality assurance inspector, I'm brought to court. However, I am just an intern. The real perpetrators are out clinking glasses, celebrating a clean getaway and the fact that they have a new scapegoat. Out of nowhere, the court introduces a new trial system that involves the extraction of memories directly from one's mind. In the middle of this major incident, a terrifying truth emerges. Everything goes all the way back to my university days…

Bad news: I'm dead. Good news: I transmigrated into a novel. Bad news: I end up in a peasant woman's womb, and I'm about to be born as a fake heir. Good news: My little sister, claiming that it's better to be safe than sorry because the novel's main character shares my name, has forced me to read this novel cover to cover. I already know that once the real heir, Isaac Reed, comes home, he'll use our parents' guilt toward him to set me up. He'll frame me at a family acknowledgment banquet, making it look like I've taken liberties with the family's precious only daughter, Kiana Reed. My adoptive parents will be so furious that they'll disown me and kick me out of the house. In the end, I'll die miserably in an alley on a rainy night. So, the year I turn five, I empty out my savings to hire a young beggar to show up at our door, claiming he's the real heir. When I'm eight, the second beggar enters the stage. When I'm ten, the third one arrives. By the time I'm 15, the manor is packed with eight so-called real heirs. These people in ancient times don't know that their supposedly reliable methods of testing kinship can be tampered with. All they know is that all eight boys seem to share blood ties with my adoptive parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Eterna. I play it off as a miracle from the heavens. Then, when I'm 16, the real heir returns.

On my wedding anniversary, my three-year-old son gave me an alpaca as a gift. I turned right around and shipped it off to the circus, where I found it a strapping alpaca husband. All because I'd been reborn. In my last life, that alpaca was sweet and gentle with everyone—except me. Every single day, it spat on me. Determined not to disappoint my son, I tried everything to win it over, but nothing worked. My mind unraveled. I stopped sleeping. I started hearing things that weren't there, and every night I dreamed of that alpaca chasing me down to spit in my face. My husband called me vicious. My son called me petty. And the two of them only grew closer to that alpaca by the day. Worn down and broken, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and ended it. Floating above my own body after death, I watched in shock as it stood back up on its own. My son ran sobbing into "my" arms. "Mom, you're finally not an alpaca anymore!" My husband smiled and pulled them both into an embrace. "Nadia, you've been through so much. If it weren't for needing a healthy body to move your soul into, you'd never have had to suffer inside that alpaca for two years." That was when I finally understood. That alpaca had been Nadia Salem all along—the sickly impostor who'd stolen my identity for over twenty years.

Everyone said Finley Floyd was a total family man. His dad had been dead for twenty years, and he still found him a wife. Then he started calling me—someone two years younger than him—"Mommy." Yeah. My hand slipped. I accidentally assigned the affection points to the wrong role. And somehow, Finley really believed I was his mother. When I told him—again—that I wasn't his mom, he snapped. He yanked me into his arms and buried his face against me. "You are Mommy!"

Father is a seven-tailed white fox, and Mother is a five-tailed flame fox. By all logic, with those two rolling the genetic dice, the worst child they could get should be a six-tailed fox. But Mother has given birth nine times, and each baby is a single-tailed earth fox. The two of them think their cultivation simply isn't strong enough, so they train even harder. The truth is, every child Mother has given birth to is a nine-tailed fox. It's just that Father's subordinate, Oscar Brown, switches them at birth and strangles them to death. I'm the unlucky idiot who's died nine times. By the tenth time, I cry and scream that I'm done. The Heavenly Way is so sick of me kicking up a fuss that they say they'll help me solve the problem. I expect them to just strike Oscar and those fox cubs with divine lightning. Instead, they grant Father the ability to perfectly comprehend baby language. When I open my eyes again, Mother is crying to Father while holding a scrawny, dark-furred earth fox. "Darling, it's all my fault. Our child only has one tail again." Meanwhile, Oscar has hidden me in his sleeve. He's about to take me away to be disposed of. In my panic, I shout in my mind, [Father, save me! Your subordinate switched me! I'm in his sleeve!] Father, who is gently comforting Mother, freezes. He looks toward Oscar, who looks shifty, and says, "Stop right there. What's that in your sleeve?"

My husband, Brody Singer, is the deputy director of a hospital and is known for being level-headed. He is so levelheaded that on the very day I miscarry, he still chooses to take Isabelle Wood, his late rescuer's widow, to look at cemetery plots first. He says, "She's been dreaming about David a lot lately, and it's making her uneasy. You have nurses over there. I'll be right back." Lying in my hospital bed, I open the location he sends me. It's an upscale cemetery with a double burial plot. The permanent maintenance fee costs 18,000 dollars. I text him back, "Nice choice. The grave is located in a bustling commercial district." He doesn't reply, but the comments floating before my eyes start answering for him. "Don't be so sarcastic. He just thinks his rescuer died too young and feels sorry that his widow has to spend the rest of her life alone." "He only married Roxanne out of convenience. Isabelle is his true soulmate and the one he secretly loves with all his heart." "Later, he'll make Roxanne sign papers to sell their home, saying the money is for Isabelle's retirement. The reason he gives is that they are still young and can easily earn money again." As the nurse hooks me up to an IV, I feel a chill on the back of my hand. I think of my wedding ring. Back then, Brody told me doctors shouldn't wear anything too expensive because it gets in the way during surgery. So my ring costs a mere 2,900 dollars. Today, he swipes his card and pays 18,000 dollars without hesitation when Isabelle says she wants to buy burial plots. I tuck the IV tubing closer beneath my sleeve and send my lawyer a message. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. Also, look into my husband's hotel records and spending history." After sending it, I quickly follow up with another text. "Move fast. He's in a hurry to repay his debt of gratitude, and he's burning through money pretty quickly."

Six months into my pregnancy, I heard my baby's cry for help. 'Mommy, save me. Please, do the C-section early. I have a congenital breathing condition. If you don't get me out now, I'll suffocate.' I listened to my baby's desperate pleading, gritted my teeth, and agreed to an early cesarean. In the end, my daughter and I both died. Right before I went, I heard the doctor say, with real regret, that the baby had been perfectly healthy. There'd been nothing wrong with her at all. When I opened my eyes again, I was pregnant once more, and once again I heard my baby crying for help. Only this time, another voice answered—soft and sweet, like a much younger child. 'Mommy, don't believe that voice. They want you to deliver early so they can give my umbilical cord blood to his illegitimate son. That boy has a blood disease, and without cord blood this month, he'll die. That's the only reason that lowlife husband of yours is so desperate to rush you into labor.'

I'm a half-baked forensic examiner whose only redeeming quality is the ability to understand animals. The crime scene is inside a lavish villa. The lady of the house lies dead on the floor with a blunt-force injury to the back of her head so deep that her bone is visible. The safe has been pried open, and a million dollars in cash has vanished without a trace. Clear shoe prints mark the backyard wall, evidence that someone has climbed over it. "This one's clear as day. This is a textbook robbery-homicide. The suspect is likely a young male, around six feet tall, has a prior theft record, and knows how to cover his tracks. Check the surveillance footage in the area and look into places where he might've moved the stolen cash." The director of the forensic science center, Egbert Woodward, has been in the profession for three decades and is a widely respected authority. The officers at the scene nod in unison and begin taking notes. I'm the only one who stares at the 30 flies circling the ceiling for a full 3 minutes before taking a step forward and piping up, "Dr. Woodward, this isn't a robbery-homicide. It's a crime of passion. The murderer is the victim's husband!"

After toiling in the underworld for three hundred years, I finally earned enough merit to be reincarnated. Then the King of Hell got drunk. Instead of sending me back as a human, he accidentally dropped me into the animal realm, where I was reborn as a plump orange cat belonging to the Sterlings, one of the wealthiest families in Evermont. Feeling guilty, the King of Hell compensated me with a hundred-year lifespan and one bizarre bonus: I could understand babies. Since I was stuck there anyway, I embraced the easy life, growing up alongside Victoria Sterling, the Sterlings' spoiled young heiress. Over the years, she became my devoted meal ticket, and I became an irreplaceable member of her family. On the day she gave birth, I lounged outside the delivery room, happily crunching on my imported freeze-dried treats. A panicked baby voice suddenly echoed in my head. [Waaah! I don't want them to take me away! My scumbag father is swapping me with his illegitimate daughter!] [I don't want to end up in an orphanage! I don't want to leave Mommy!] Before I could process that, another baby's voice rang out sinisterly. [Once I become the real heiress, the first thing I'll do is poison that woman and that fat cat.] I froze mid-bite. Every hair on my body stood on end. [Meow. You really picked the wrong cat to mess with.] [Anyone who dares lay a finger on the girl I raised is about to learn a very painful lesson.] With one powerful kick of my hind legs, I launched myself like a furry cannonball straight toward the delivery room.

The day before the SAT, strange comments suddenly appear before my eyes. "In a while, your childhood friend, Savannah Dunham, will come to you complaining about a stomachache. She will ask you to accompany her to the restroom. "She'll give birth there, then accuse you of being the baby's father. Since you'll be at the scene and she'll personally identify you as the father of the baby, the police will arrest you on the spot. By the time the truth comes out, you'll have already missed the SAT." The very next moment, Savannah clutches her stomach and grabs my arm. "Benny, my stomach hurts. Can you come to the restroom with me?" Every word she says and every move she makes matches the comments exactly. Then, another comment appears. "Her boyfriend is Michael Crowley, the one who always comes second. If you miss the SAT, Michael will become the top scorer this year." I shake off Savannah's hand immediately. "I'm sorry. Ms. Kirkland asked to see me. She said there's a problem with my exam admission pass. You'll have to go by yourself."

The apocalypse hits, and my entire family awakens superpowers, except me. I'm a total dud. What they don't realize is that I'm actually the family's Wi-Fi hotspot for powers. They're only superpowered as long as they stay within 500 yards of me. So, I stick to them like glue, and they cherish their one "powerless" family member like gold. Then my brother, Dylan Brewer, rescues a woman from a zombie horde who looks identical to Mom. That's when I learn I'm the fake heiress who has been swapped at birth. Once she joins the family, she awakens a spatial ability that lets her hoard endless supplies. During a supply run, she suddenly yanks me out of the safety circle and shoves me toward a supermarket packed with zombies. "You freeloading dud! Everyone's risking their lives! What gives you the right to hide behind us and leech off our hard work?" I break free from her grip and try to explain. "I can't go! If I die, your powers will—" Before I can say "disappear", a cold gun barrel presses against my forehead.

Although I'm the ace translator of my company, I let the receptionist, Janice Cartman, take charge of a translation project that's worth over 100 million dollars of my own volition. In my past life, Janice is the childhood friend of my boyfriend, Nicholas Sanders, who has dropped out of middle school. Yet, she suddenly masters eight languages overnight. Not only that, but she claims that she simply taught herself the languages. I need to research the technical terms beforehand every time I take on a translation project, but Janice is able to easily translate anything that she hears on the spot with 100% accuracy. Everyone praises Janice for being a translation genius while calling me a worthless loser in private. Janice stops me when I'm about to go on stage to fulfill my duties as the translator for the 100-million-dollar project. I've spent the last two weeks preparing for it, sacrificing sleep to ensure that I'm completely ready. "This isn't the time for you to show off, Giselle. This project will determine whether the company will become publicly listed. Your foundation isn't as good as mine, so I'll take your place!" Nicholas and my other colleagues fully support Janice's suggestion. I do everything I can to change their minds, but in the end, I'm still forcefully replaced. Janice's translations are flawless. She's lauded as the hero of the company. Meanwhile, I'm demoted to a cleaning lady under the pretext that my skills are lacking. I don't understand. I've spent the last decade working myself to the bone to hone my skills, yet I still lose to Janice, who becomes a translation genius overnight. In a daze, I accidentally lose my footing and drown to death. Seconds before I breathe my last breath, I find out that Janice's translations are a hoax. She simply repeats the words that she hears in my heart. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've been transported back to the day when Janice claims that she's a translation genius who knows eight languages. This time, I don't stay up all night to prepare my translation materials. Instead, I start memorizing a funeral speech!

My fiancé, Julian Vance, was the definition of a prince charming—the kind every woman in town would kill for. He was stunning to look at, a devoted lover, and looked at me with eyes so sweet they seemed to drip with honey. Chloe Mercer, my best friend, was a ray of sunshine. Whenever I needed a pick-me-up, she would show up with a strawberry crepe cake—sweet, soft, and comforting. They were the two most important people in my life, my sanctuary, whom I trusted with all my heart. Until the iron doors were welded shut. The screech of rusting metal scraping in the dark sounded like the wailing of damned souls from hell. Gasoline came seeping in through the crack under the door. When the flames roared to life, I heard Julian’s voice. He was standing right outside. Through billows of thick, suffocating smoke, his voice was gentle, caressing. “Hazel... I’m sorry. “Sterling Group’s ten-billion-dollar empire... “Starting today, it would be under the Vance name.” Chloe stood right by his side. The inferno cast a sickening crimson glow across her face. She didn’t utter a word. But the corners of her mouth were curled upward. Her eyes were overflowing with triumph. I choked down one last breath of heavy, toxic smoke. My lungs felt like they were being sliced up under a blade. I died—but did I?

During the company retreat, my husband put my dignity on the poker table. He deliberately threw the game to the twenty-two-year-old intern, feeding her the winning hand and letting her bask in everyone's applause. I frowned and was about to speak, but my husband gently patted the back of my hand. "Don't take it too seriously, lady boss. Let the young girl have her fun." When the intern's gaze settled on the diamond bracelet around my wrist, I instinctively reached to protect the last shred of dignity I had left. Before I could say a word, my husband had already agreed on my behalf. "Fine. We'll bet that." Laughter erupted around the table, and my heart went cold. Just then, my baby suddenly stirred inside me, and a tiny voice echoed in my mind. 'Mommy, bet with her. I'm your little lucky charm. I'll make sure you win.' I raised my eyes to meet the intern's challenging stare. Then, without breaking eye contact, I slowly slipped the bracelet off my wrist.

On the day I nearly died, I was twenty-eight floors up, fixing an AC unit on an outside wall. My hand slipped as I was securing my safety line. All of a sudden, I had been pulled into a fantasy world. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a cave that was more like an ice box. There was an old man in a white robe next to me, poking me in the face. “Awake? Good. You’ll be one of the new students here at Icicle Mountain. You’ll get an allowance of two magic stones a month for sweeping up the cave.” “Wait, where am I?” “Icicle Mountain of Crylestia School.” “Can I make a suggestion? Your cave system has a ventilation problem. The cold air can’t escape and just keeps on making the place colder. I’ll get joint pains if I stay here too long,” I said. He looked at me like I was crazy.

My name is Mabel Lloyd, and I make a barely decent living repairing household appliances. Two weeks ago, on a night when the rain came down heavily, I found a soaking-wet stranger huddled outside my apartment building. He was ridiculously handsome, an incredible cook and had only one glaring flaw — he was painfully shy. Whenever anyone asked his name, he would blush so hard his ears turned bright red, then stand there in complete silence, unable to get a single word out. I could not bring myself to leave him out in the rain, so I rented him the spare storage room in my apartment. Everything was fine. Until today. I heard knocking at my door and, when I went over to check who it was, the building manager was standing there with three men in black suits. The one in front flashed a badge, his expression unreadable. "Routine inspection. Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. "We have reason to believe an unregistered fox shifter may be hiding on these premises." Before I could even process what he had said, a loud clang rang out from the kitchen as a frying pan hit the floor. The very next second, my painfully shy tenant cautiously peeked around the kitchen door. A pair of fluffy white fox ears twitched nervously on top of his head and, when he spoke, his voice shook so badly it sounded like a washing machine caught in the spin cycle. "Mabel... don't open the door. They're here to drag me home for an arranged marriage."

At the company’s quarterly awards ceremony, the CFO suddenly announced a new performance criterion. He produced a raffle drum decorated with lucky symbols. “Any employee who draws the grand-prize ticket will receive a quarterly bonus of $150,000.” After a few seconds of stunned silence, all my colleagues rushed forward, and somehow, every one of them drew a winning ticket. Yet I, the company’s top salesperson with a $60-million contract in hand, drew the only losing ticket. The CFO tossed a good-luck charm onto my desk. “Alex, you may be our top salesperson, but your luck is terrible. You’re going to drag the whole company down. “The company prepared this charm especially for you. Take it and get rid of your bad luck. Work harder next quarter, and maybe you’ll earn the bonus.” In an instant, all the colleagues who had once showered me with flattery backed away with mocking looks, as if I were some piece of trash that brought misfortune to everyone around me. I swallowed my humiliation and confronted my boss. He didn’t even bother looking up. “Mr. Lee is doing this for the company’s growth. As a veteran employee, you should understand. “Besides, it’s your own fault for having such terrible luck. Instead of wasting my time, why don’t you hurry to a church and pray?” I argued my case, but the security guards threw me out. Furious, I suddenly felt a strange sense of relief. I turned around and called our rival company. “I have the contract your company has been fighting us for. Would you be interested in making a deal?”

As purebred humans, my sister Lily and I arrived on the Beastman Continent with the Breeding System, meant to help the beastmen breed and secure their future.. The system offered two talent trees for us to choose from. Lily hated the idea of pregnancy, so she jumped first and picked the low-tier talent: Surrogacy. I got stuck with the high-tier one: Litter of Many. We ended up mated to the wolf alpha and the tiger alpha, respectively. Lily had a wandering heart and secretly slept around with all kinds of beastmen behind closed doors. But she was terrified that getting pregnant would expose her affairs, so she kept using her Surrogacy talent on me. Over and over again, I was forced to birth litter after litter of low-grade beast pups. The whole continent was buzzing with rumors about me—that I'd spread my legs for anyone. My so-called mate, the wolf alpha Tyron wouldn't listen to a word I said. He called me cheap, a slut, a whore. Every time I gave birth, he'd kill the pups. In the end, I was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the system was activated.